Thursday, January 13, 2011

Smugliest Catch: Decking the Hauls

Everybody wants to be happy (except for goths and roadies, of course). However, in today's fast-paced, fatuous, and often malodorous world, finding contentment can be difficult. To that end, all sorts of people will come forward claiming to hold the secret to happiness. Various religions insist you'll be happy if you pray to their gods and follow their arbitrary rules concerning diet and masturbation. Minimalists claim you'll be happy if you get rid of all your stuff and buy every single product designed and sold by Apple Inc. And Dr. Drew from "Celebrity Rehab" says you'll be happy if only you'd put down that crack pipe and stop driving your car through crowded shopping malls.

I prefer to take a simpler approach, since none of the above philosophies changes the fact that, like it or not, we've all got to get crap done. Not only does getting crap done comprise most of our day, but it's largely the stress and irritation that goes along with getting crap done that makes us so unhappy. Therefore, it would stand to reason that, if you can render getting crap done into fun, you can turn drudgery into delight. It's sort of the alchemy of the mundane.

Like many people, I find a good way to do this is to run errands by bike, and as a non-minimalist I often have stuff that needs to go from one place to another. Furthermore, as it happens, yesterday I also had a bunch of packages waiting for me at my off-site mailing box, and on top of that we had had another snowstorm. Certainly one approach to moving lots of stuff on a snowy day would be to dig out your car, lose your parking space, sit in a bunch of traffic, hunt for another parking space when you get home, and so forth. Another one would be to wrestle your payload onto and off of the subway somehow, or else pay some fragrant lunatic in a dilapidated Town Car an absurd amount of money to chauffeur you for a couple of hours. Or, you could load up your smugness flotilla and revel in unabashed bike dorkitude.

I had been off frightening cows during our last snowstorm, which left the city in chaos. Streets, were unplowed, neighbor turned upon neighbor, dogs devoured housecats, and tent cities formed in the regional airports that remain to this day and have their own ZIP codes. Therefore, I didn't know what to expect this time around. Fortunately though, everything was fine, and even the bike lanes were kindasorta plowed:

This alleviated one of my concerns, but the other concern I had was this whole "New York City bike scofflaw crackdown" thing. People have been talking about this for months, and every time I get on my bike now I expect to be arrested for some arcane offense like not having "lawyer lips" on my fork, or using a bar/stem combo from two different manufacturers. Of course, we do have a modicum of control over whether or not we get pulled over, and one good way to keep this from happening is to stop at red lights, which I've been doing fairly diligently:

Traditionally, New York City cyclists don't stop at red lights, so for some people the idea of doing so is nearly unthinkable--like a celebrity putting down the crack pipe and no longer driving through shopping malls. I, however, have made my peace with it, mostly by using the same "alchemy of the mundane" technique. Instead of waiting impatiently, I try to enjoy my red light-induced respite. In the warmer months, there's of course the people watching for which New York City is famous, as well as the inadvertent displays of idiocy put on by other cyclists. However, on snowy, blustery days, these displays are at best far less "flambullient," and at worst nonexistent, and so I turn to one of my favorite winter hobbies, which is "carcake spotting." This involves admiring the snow formations on top of people's cars, an in fact I'm proud to say I recently discovered that the term "carcake" is now in the Urban Dictionary, complete with proper attribution:

I know it's a pathetic hobby, but really, it's all I have, and it beats getting a ticket.

Anyway, yesterday's weather conditions did make for some fairly decent carcake spotting. For example, I always enjoy a nice hastily-cleared "wild and woolly" economy car, and I was pleased to spot a nice example:

I also saw a very clean Brazilian wax-style "landing strip:"

Very subtle, but definitely there:

Also, carcakes don't need to be limited to a vehicle's roof. There's also the bald-head-with-goatee carcake, like this one:

Think Anthrax's Scott Ian, only without the bushy eyebrows:

As practical, everyday urban transporation, there's not much to recommend the SUV, but the fact that their owners can't reach all the way across the roof makes for a carcake spotter's delight, since it invariably results in the "Euro-hawk:"

As worn by the "Little Prince Who's Not So Little Anymore Now That He's Pushing 30," Damiano Cunego:

("Really, I need a new nickname, 'Little Prince' is just creepy now.")

But really, nothing beats the good old "pan of brownies," ready to fly off in a single piece as soon as the vehicle hits the expressway:

Watching a carcake lift itself off a roof and soar brilliantly through the air before breaking apart on either the highway surface or else, more commonly, the windshield of the vehicle behind it is one of the most spectacular moments a carcake watcher can hope to experience--though since it's mostly limited to highways you've generally got to be in a car yourself.

Of course, the carcake spotting was incidental, and the far more enjoyable part was the actual ride. Once I got to where I was going, I strapped a bunch of stuff to my bike, and it looked like this:

Not only does a long wheelbase help keep your child's face out of your ass, but it also makes for very stable handling in messy weather, and if anything the bike handled even better in the snow with all that crap on it since the weight helped the wheel dig in more deeply. (It's sort of hard to place your body weight over your rear wheel when it's all the way back there in a different county.)

Sure, as cyclists we'd all love to embark upon evocative Rapha-esque "epics" at a moment's notice, ascending monumental climbs with exquisitely hand-crafted artisanal race bikes rocking back and forth between our legs like pendulous testis as our faces broadcast expressions of pain and sensual insouciance, but the simple fact is most of us need to get crap done, and hauling boxes through the snow on a Taiwanese smugness toboggan is good enough for me. As the old saying goes, when life gives you lemons, throw those lemons at strangers from behind parked cars and laugh at their confusion.

Best of all, I was not apprehended and beaten by police on trumped-up charges such as failing to signal before making a crotchal adjustment--and not only that, but the controversial Prospect Park West bike lane was also completely clear:

By the way, if you're wondering what was in those boxes, that's my business (my business being illegal drugs, off-brand AA batteries, and black market baby carrots that I sell from a cart on the subway), but I will say that one of the packages contained this:

As I opened it, my excitement mounted. Was it a saddle? Was it a bag? Was it Etc.? Well, it turns out it was just a tiny wrench, though it did come with a "bonus saddle:"

I've never owned a Brooks saddle before, so I am eagerly looking forward to finding out if they do in fact conform to my contours as eagerly as a hipster conforms to the latest trends, or if it will merely be like riding with a rawhide doggie treat stuffed down my pants. I'm also wondering what I've done to deserve Brooks's munificence, though I also make a practice of never looking a gift horse in the mouth (especially if that gift horse is about to be slaughtered and turned over to Eric "The Chamferer" Murray). I will say though that the saddle is quite hard to the touch--so much so that the owner of that disembodied hand is crying unconsolably even now. But it does promise on the card that this particular saddle is "aged" and that it will give me "comfort from day 1," so I will withhold any judgement until I've actually mounted and ridden the thing.

One thing's for sure, though--if I'm going to "rock" a saddle like this I'm going to have to "upgrade" my cockpit to match, and I may go with a setup like this one, spotted by a reader in London:

The rider must be a bartender, so going from this bike to the beer taps is an easy transition.

Anyone who is founding their own religion can perform time-stamp miracles, and Mr Snob, "it would stand to reason that, if you can render getting crap done into fun, you can turn drudgery into delight" is definitely the basis of a good religion.However, if you want to be a fully-fledged guru, you should get your classical languages up to speed; only the 'Uniballer' has 'pendulous testis', most of the rest of us males have 'testes'.

Last night on my way back from Prospect Park, a Rhode Island driver with a covered Thule rack on his 4 door compact threw something at me (WLK something was the license, I believe). I invented a new urban bike sport called:

Chase the Coward up Myrtle Avenue & beyond hoping to see a cop to press assault charges while at the same time forcing said buzz-cut &wire rim wearing coward to run red lights in an effort to avoid being chased down by the seemingly hapless cyclist who probably isn't so helpless if he's biking around in freezing weather at 10pm for fun".

Hard NOT to chase people who toss stuff at you.A metal waterbottle makes a nice assistant, esp if 1/2 full of water or in this season, ice. Amazed meself a few times at the giant indentations left (on the car or truck). Stupid, but gratifying. Must not do it anymore.

About that Brooks, if Baby Snob could talk he would be saying "Dad WTF?" It's like when I drove someone's vintage VW Bug, with the weak brakes, no heat, and engine fumes. Memories are usually better than reality.

Snobeh,Brooks is a runner-up to the Selle An-Atomica in terms of out-of-the box comfort for leather saddles, but Brooks are usu. cheaper (or free for you celebs), easier to find and and (in my case) more durable. Keep it dry and road-salt-free and in 200 miles it should be pretty comfy.

I don't quite how you could pretend a "bikesnob" without Brooks all along. Unless of course Brooks is too anglican (pedestrian?) and you've been riding the preferred continental Ideale saddles. /next time bigger hand hammered rivets. seriously.

"I prefer to take a simpler approach, since none of the above philosophies changes the fact that, like it or not, we've all got to get crap done. Not only does getting crap done comprise most of our day, but it's largely the stress and irritation that goes along with getting crap done that makes us so unhappy. Therefore, it would stand to reason that, if you can render getting crap done into fun, you can turn drudgery into delight. It's sort of the alchemy of the mundane."

I don't think that riding to the post office to retrieve free goodies from Murray the Chamferer can really qualify as 'getting crap done'. It seems to me that would qualify more as 'getting free crap', which to me is delightful all on it's own. Unless that free thing is VD or something similar. That would suck.

Cheap shower caps are great for keeping a Brooks dry. And last summer a local brewery (Goose Island) gave away plastic saddle covers at bike events. They're bright yellow and have the "Chicago 312" logo all over them but they do the job.

I got a ticket for running red lights in bed-sty late at night. I told the cop that i thought it would be more dangerous to stop and wait around on the corner in this neighborhood on a bike. He apologized, and suggested that i tell the judge that i'm not from brooklyn (i'm from queens). So, then i robbed a deli.

I knew it was going to happen. All the testers of the Surly Big Dummy at the mighty Q Palace in MPLS let it get the better of them. Constantly bringing into regular conversations the multitude of crap they hauled awkwardly to work. But they were weak. With you, I had hope. I thought the force was strong with you, but like Anakin you too were converted to the dark side. At least you're aware of your new addiction to smug.

The Big Dummy It's totally the SUV of bikes (shitty at being a truck and shitty at being a car). It's loosely practical 2-3 times a year, but when it is we all have to hear about it. And it's hard to park (can't hang that in my apartment). All of this is part of my one man campaign to make bicycle trailers as sexy as artisinal axes.

and now... Oh shit. A Brooks saddle. This was the second step on the path of ultimate smugness for the same crowd. I rode one on my commuter for a summer, cursed every day it was raining and gave it away on the company free table (not without an email to all chiding the eventual recipient for their less than practical choice in saddleways).

there is a cure for that dog treat snob, it's called proofhide. rub both sides of that treat liberally with some proofhide and put it in your oven at the very lowest setting for 15 to 20 minutes. Let it cool and repeat one or 2 more times. The leather will loosen up nicely. trust me, i've treated 4 brooks dog treats this way.

Jeezus, do you see where your headed Snob with this Brooks saddle? Your attracting the plastic bag and shower cap on the saddle crowd! Before you know it they will have you growing a long grey beard and walking through the library with your helmet on while trying to tape up your broken wire rim glasses for the 14th time.

Nice to see that you have pretty much completely caved on the usefulness of Big Dummys and the like, now we just need to wait a few years for you to realise that Bakefits and other Long Johns are great for getting other crap done like dropping kids off at nursery/kindergarted/school without having to compete with all the bubblewrap parenting SUVs for parking spaces... and that having the load in front where you can see it and dont have to worry about your feet hitting it is ininitely superior to the longtail...Then maybe a few more decades for your back to give out and the Recumbent turn around... though turning round is obviously the Achilles heel of the recumbent...

I've got a Selle An-Atomica on my Big Dummy. The leather is supposed to be better able to deal with moisture than a Brooks... handy when you are wetting yourself at the thought of your own righteousness. I got the Selle An-Atomica in the dark brown colourway. From new, on every ride, the brown finish transferred to the seat of my pants until it looked like I had also been shitting myself at the thought of my own righteousness. But that would be going too far, so I rubbed the saddle down with methylated spirits until the colour stopped coming off. The shitty colour seems to have been painted on, rather than using brown dyed leather.

I haven't thought about it for a while, so I guess it's doing its job comfort wise, but of course comfort shouldn't be considered anything more than an unexpected by-product. My primary concern is that the old timey wholesomeness of riveted leather advertises my own superior wholesomeness and deep rootsy involvement with bicycles.

The secret to ultimate happiness is PANTIES! and a Brooks to sit on your Big Dummy while wearing your panties. They should be minimalist panties, barely large enough to cover your minimalist landing strip, but you should have a massive collection of them. Take it from someone who knows by experience.

Sigh. It's sad to see parents pushing their kids into their failed dreams. Bike "carny hands" Snob just couldn't cut it in the insane New York hand modeling world, never to land that awersome hand job, he settled on blogging. But now, new hope with L'il Eddy.

Bike Snob you are a pro! Whereas other bloggers crudely pitch products, you serve them up with oh so sweet irony but with nary a bad word said. I bet the hits on the product links are sky high. A true salesman indeed.

Dear Snob,You will be uber-delighted to know you have reached another pinnacle of fame besides having your book appear in an ad (at least, I assume it is your book, though for all I know, someone may have pasted the cover of you book around their copy of Martha Stewart’s collected works on the best ways to use vinegar and baking soda as a substitute for toothpaste): I mentioned you in a blog post of my very own! And to emphasize just what a tremendous benchmark this is, let me just say that my blog has an immense number of followers (if by “immense” you mean more than one).

I was staying up late tonight sipping on some Old Grandad and surfing the web when I stumbled upon this site. I don't have anything interesting to add (I'm old and used up my wisdom long ago lol), but I do like the article and the site.

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About Me

While I love cycling and embrace it in all its forms, I'm also extremely critical. So I present to you my venting for your amusement and betterment. No offense meant to the critiqued. Always keep riding!